


I'll show you the man

by oooknuk



Series: Beginnings [3]
Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Ray and Fraser Senior pair up to find the missing Benton - and encounter a blast from the past





	I'll show you the man

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognize will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended. Not for profit. 
> 
> Warnings: language, m/m, violence 
> 
> Note: This is an AU, and a sequel to my AU story, When a door closes. In this story, Bob Fraser is alive and well and married to Maggie Mackenzie's mother, Fraser never went to Chicago and Ray Kowalski first met him in Norman Wells, where he now lives. There is a Christmas story that comes before this, God rest you, merry gentlemen 
> 
> My thanks to Possum and Sasha for beta, and to Nancy for help with the plot. The diamonds are all hers.

Ben Fraser isn't perfect, I know that. He does a great line in sarcasm, and can sulk like nobody's business. He's not much of a cook, and he drinks milk out of the carton if he thinks he can get away with it. But on the really big things? He's as good as you get. He doesn't lie. Never. And duty is like a religion or something for him. So, no sick days cos his lover wants to try something new. And promises. Never, ever breaks a promise. Not even to the wolf. And especially not to me. So when they say he isn't coming home, I know they're wrong. He promised me he'd be back. And that was that. He's coming home. For sure. Because he never broke a promise to me yet, and he sure as hell isn't gonna start with this one. Not if I have anything to do with it.

 

* * *

One of the things Ben doesn't get is dancing. Oh, I know he appreciates ballet, and he'll sit and clap his hands at a hoe-down. And it's not like he doesn't listen to the music I brought me with me from Chicago - he even likes some of it, and can tell you in boring detail exactly how the voices work together and why the minors chords work **_there_** and why you have to have a drum go **_here._** But the man has the rhythm of a stick. He just doesn't understand getting up and shaking your bootie to some rockin' song, playing air guitar. He doesn't feel the urge - the **_need_** \- to get up and feel the beat through his body, to move and bounce and pound the ground. I mean, he doesn't mind if **_I_** do, but he watches with that polite, confused look on this face, and then when I've made a complete fool of myself, he says, "Very nice, Ray" or "That was interesting, wasn't it?" and I'd just **_know_** that this is something we just can never share.

Well, okay, so he's got a serious character flaw. I still love him. But this is why I am boppin' around in his long johns, washing the dishes and making like Freddie Mercury this morning. He's out tracking an illegal trapper, been gone ten days, and is due back anytime now. So I'm missing him, and needing to keep busy, and incidentally taking every opportunity to keep my dancing feet in shape by playing my stuff loud and singing in my not so wonderful voice while he isn't here to wince and pretend he doesn't think I'm two bricks short of a load. So, what I guess I'm saying is, when this old guy comes in through our unlocked front door, without knocking, at 9.00 in the morning, while I'm asking on top note, "Can any bodeeee find meeeeee somebody toooo love?" and waggling my ass at Dief - it's all Ben's fault, okay?

I don't know who gets the bigger shock, me or the old fart. I know I jump three feet and drop the mug I'm washing, nearly hitting the wolf. So I bark louder than Dief at the intruder. "Who the **_hell_** are you?"

The old guy just stands and glares at me. "That was going to be my question. Who are **_you_** and where's my son? What are you doing here?"

Uh oh. Fraser's dad. The one who lives on Baffin Island. The one Ben hardly ever sees. The one, and this is the important point, who doesn't know that his son has a new roomie, or that said roomie does more than share the rent. Shit. "Um..." Well, that was smooth, Kowalski.

"Speak up, son. Mumbling is the sign of a weak mind."

Weak mind. Yeah. That's me. "Um.... I'm Ray. Kowalski. Ben... Uh... Fraser's out on patrol."

He nods. "And you...?"

"I live here... uh, I rent a room from him ... **_that_** room," I point to the smaller bedroom where most of my junk that didn't fit in the living room ended up.

"Were you planning on getting dressed anytime soon, son, or are you not feeling well?"

I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or polite - haven't quite got the hang of Canadian yet. "Uh ... no, just doing the dishes. Getting dressed... good idea. Be right back... uh.... make yourself at home."

I scramble into 'my' room, thanking Jesus that I do in fact have some clothes in there, and pull the jeans on over the long johns, and find one of Ben's shirts that landed up in there. I can see the old guy looking around all my stuff, like the CD player and the TV and things he must know aren't Ben's. He doesn't seem put out. But then, he's got the original granite face - so many lines and wrinkles, I can't tell what he's thinking. I come back out. "So, you just visiting?"

"Ben's stepmother is visiting Maggie in Inuvik - you know Maggie?" I nod. Oh yeah. Ben and me spent Christmas with her and her family. It was great. I was feeling kinda low, it being the first one without my parents, the first since they died, but Maggie and Casey and the kids took me right in. Maggie knows about me and Ben, of course. She was keen for Ben to hook up with me, even before we knew ourselves, and she thinks I'm good for him. That Ben's been good for me goes without saying. The man saved my life.

"Thought I'd drop down and see him, surprise him. When's he due back, did he say?"

"Today or tomorrow, he thinks. He radioed in to say he'd lost the trapper's trail, and his sergeant, Sergeant Anderson, he told him to come back in."

He grumbles at that. "That's the trouble with the new breed - soft. We'd never have given up. Anderson must be losing his touch."

I feel I should defend Ben's honor, but something tells me that this would be a waste of time, and that Fraser's dad probably spends a lot of time making the same complaint. So I change the subject. "I was gonna head down to headquarters, and see what the news is, actually. Want to come?"

"Of course."

The detachment headquarters are two minutes from our house, but in that time, Fraser's dad manages to ask me where I was from, what I'm doing up here, and how long I've been here. I give him  all the information he needs, the whole first coming to Norman Wells on the trail of my father's killer thing, without giving him the stuff Ben hasn't told him for a reason, which is that it's the sort of thing you have to say face to face, and he and his dad haven't seen each other in about eighteen months. But the old guy seems content for now.

I know as soon as I come in the headquarter's door and see Constable Stuart's face that something is badly wrong. I hate that sympathetic look people give you when they're gonna tell you your life has just been torn in half. "Stu, what's happened? What's happened to Ben?"

Stu looks sick. He's a good friend of both of us, has been to supper with us any number of times, and owns the dogs Ben and me are going to take with us on our 'adventure' in a month's time. Whatever he's gonna say, I know I'm gonna hate. "Ray ... Ben hasn't called in for two days. He ... why don't you sit down?" Oh shit. That's cop talk for 'sit down so we don't have to scrape you off the ground when you faint from shock.'

"Stu, this is Fraser's dad," I warn him with a head jerk back at Fraser Senior. Stu looks even more grim faced.

"Sir, nice to meet you ... I think you should sit down too."

"No, I'm fine. Sergeant Robert Fraser, Baffin Island, nice to meet you too, Constable. What were you going to say about my son."

"Sir... Ray... both of you, just sit. It's bad news. I was just coming to see you, actually - we only got the report ten minutes ago." He came out from behind the counter, and joined us in the waiting area. "Fraser ... Ben radioed in three days ago, like Sergeant Anderson told you, Ray. He was supposed to call in every day, but when he didn't check in yesterday, and he didn't answer our calls, we sent a search helicopter up to his last known position. We ... we found a body, and the sled. In a gorge, about twenty kilometers from his last known position."

My throat just clamps up, and I get that icy cold prickly feeling that means you either want to faint or puke. "Ben?" I finally manage to say. Next to me, Fraser's dad doesn't say a word, and I don't dare look at him. Not yet.

"They couldn't get real close - wind sheer - but the person fitted Fraser's description. The dogs were his, they think, and the sled. And they saw the hat."

No. This can't be right. "No. You're wrong. He's coming back. He said. He **_promised._** "

Stu looks ill. "Ray, I'm sorry..."

"No. You're wrong," I repeat. I get up. "Show me where you heard from him last."

"Ray...." Stu starts to say, but I glare at him and he stops.

Fraser's dad puts his hand on my arm, which is nice of him, considering what he has just heard. "Ray ... these things happen."

I shake his hand off, and look at him. "He's your son, goddammit. And he's not dead. I'm gonna find him." I turn back to Stu. "Now show me where he was. Now." Stu gets out a map, clearly humoring me, and shows me the place, about 80 kilometers south of Norman Wells, near Blue Mountain. "I need your dogs, Stu. And maybe some gear - Ben's got some of our stuff with him."

"Ray, you can't - you don't know how..."

"I need your dogs. You gonna lend me them, or do I have to ask someone else?" Stu looks at me helplessly. I can't really blame him, with the few brain cells that are jumping up and down and telling me I'm out of my mind. But the rest of me is screaming that I have to find Ben, or die trying. Finally, he nods. "Okay. I'm gonna pack, and be back."

With that I stalk out, busily making a list in my mind of all the thing Ben's told me we'd need to take with us, trying to remember everything he told me about first aid, and rescue, and hypothermia, and not, definitely **_not_** thinking about how I'm going to get my partner's corpse home. I almost forget about Fraser's father, and am nearly at our front door when he catches up with me, and grabs my arm.

"Son, hold up. You can't go after him - you're just compounding the tragedy." I whirl around to bite his head off, but then see a man who's heard his only son is probably dead. I calm down enough to talk gently.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know you must be upset too. But Ben's my friend - my **_partner._** I have to do this. I **_have_** to. You gotta understand that."

"But what are you going to do? You can't retrieve the body - they've tried."

"That's not Ben, there. I know it. I'm gonna find him and bring him home."

I sound mulish and he looks at me for a good while. Finally, I put my hand on our front door. "I can't waste any more time. I've got to pack."

He hesitates for a second. "Then I'll come with you." I nod.

Once inside I start assembling things in a mad rush. Thermal underwear, spare shirts. Equipment, lamps, tents, sleeping bags. Where the hell was .... Fraser's dad puts his hand up. "Whoa, son. If you're going to do this, let's be a little orderly about it. You get the clothing and bedding. I'll find the camping equipment, I know where he used to keep that."

"You need to call your wife."

"I'll call Maggie. Ellen's not well, I don't want to worry her."

Finally, I slow down enough to realize what this means for him, and for me. "You don't have to do this - no sense us both getting killed."

He gives me a wry grin. "Son, I've lived sixty years in the Territories, and I've been a Mountie for forty of those. I've no intention of getting killed - or of letting you get killed either. Benton would never forgive me."

I have to smile at that, and it lifts me up in a funny way. If the old guy is on my side, I just know we've got a chance of finding Ben. And to be honest, I'm not sure I can do it on my own.

Fraser Senior calls Maggie, and plays down the likelihood that we're on a fool's mission, and tells her to make it even less dramatic when she tells her mother. He tells her we'll be gone a week - I have to accept that. We'll reach Ben's last known position in two to three days, with luck, and if we don't find him within two days, we'll have to come back. Good thing Ben didn't take Dief, because the wolf had been poorly. We need Dief's nose.

"Have you got a gun?" he asks. Damn - Ben has our only rifle with him.

"Stu can lend us one, I think."

Getting things assembled takes an hour, and even though I'm desperate to get started, we still have to buy some provisions, for us, the dogs, and for an extra person when we find Ben. I also take five minutes to tell my boss and future business partner, Charlie MacDonald, what I'm doing. He looks at me sadly - I can tell he thinks I'm wasting my time, but he doesn't say as much.

"Ray, I think of Ben like he was my own. God speed. And be careful." He shakes my hand.

"Thanks, Charlie. I will. And I'll bring him back."

Eleven o'clock. Six hours of daylight. I think we're all ready, but Fraser Senior won't let me leave.

"Look, we have to plan this. There's no use just haring off. Get your maps. And we need to eat before we leave. We don't need to stop for lunch then."

"We're wasting time, Pops! Ben could be injured out there ..."

"Son, he could be **_dead_** out there. We'll be no use to him if we get lost or hurt."

"How the hell can you be so calm about this?" I shout at him.

"Because I buried Ben's mother when he was six, and I've buried friends, and I may, god help me, have to bury my own son. But I'm damned if I'm going to bury his friend, or ask someone to bury me, for the want of a half hour delay before we set off." He looks at me with all the authority of a RCMP sergeant and a man who's been in command longer than I've been alive. I back down, and apologize. "Right. Now, you make some sandwiches - a proper meal, mind, we're not stopping before dark, and we can talk while we eat."

I make us up some thick sandwiches and open a can of soup. I don't want to eat, but Ben has drilled into me the importance of keeping up the food intake, and we have a hard day in front of us. I don't want to admit it to his dad, but I'm getting worried. I haven't been out on the sled that much, and while I can leave the mushing to him, I'm fretting that I might slow things down. I haven't been up here more than five months. But on the other hand, the RCMP have given up. If we don't go, no one will, not until spring, and that will be just to get a skeleton back - if that.

As we eat we lay out the path. Basically we'll be following the Canol Heritage trail, the one all the tourists like to use. I get angry with Fraser's insistence that we have to stop at the fifty kilometer mark, by Pump Station 2. "No way - them dogs can do 14 kilometers an hour, we can get **_there_** by nightfall," I say, stabbing at the map. He pulls it out from under my finger.

"Look, son..."

"It's 'Ray', okay? Ben's your son, and he's alive."

"Look, **_Ray_** , if we kill the dogs getting there, none of us will survive. They have to be spelled. It's a difficult route."

"But...."

"No buts, and no arguments. If we go on this, I'm in charge."

I glare at him, and stand up. "Who died and made you God, old timer?"

"No one. You can't do this on your own. He's my son...."

"He's my partner...."

"He's. My. Son. Now sit down and eat your food, Yank, and no more of your lip, or I'll leave you behind. You've got ten minutes, then we leave."

I stand there, totally speechless at the way Mr. Super Mountie has just taken over my expedition. But on the other hand, he's right - I do need him. He waits until I work it out, and then I sit down, sour as hell.

"Look, Ray ... someone has to take charge, someone has to follow. I know this area, I know the dogs. I want to find Benton as much, if not more than you do ...."

"You have no idea...."

"No, I don't. But I do know he's your friend, and that's good enough for me. But you have to listen to me, or you'll get us killed. When you go out with Benton, who leads?"

"He does," I say sulkily.

"Right. Just think of me as him, for now."

I stare at him, then realize I have no choice. "Okay - but I'm not happy."

"No one ever said you had to be, Yank."

"Ray - not 'Yank'."

"Ray." For a minute I think he's laughing at me, but I can't really read his expression. Anyway, we're wasting time arguing. I scarf the rest of my food, and he makes short work of his. I quickly close everything up in the house. We have to take Ben's jeep out to the kennels where Stu keeps the dogs and the sled. We're out of the house in twenty minutes, my mind still racing, still trying to think if I'd forgotten anything. My biggest worry is if we find Ben and he's badly hurt. The area where he radioed from is pretty rugged, and helicopters will find it hard to land. I can't think about us **_not_** finding him.

Fraser Senior - he still hasn't told me what to call him, so I'm settling for 'Sir' and "hey you' - is good, I'll give him that. He gets the dogs hitched and the sled loaded faster than even Ben can, and within twenty minutes we're off across the frozen Mackenzie River, heading towards the Norman Mountains. The weather forecast for the day is good, but storms are always to be expected. We're packing a radio, but essentially, we're on our own. Hold on, Ben, I keep saying.

Dog sledding is fun, but not exactly a comfortable ride. I know I'm going to have a bruised ass by the time we stop, not that I mind. Fraser's dad is fast on the sled handling and we lose no time, zipping along the frozen river. I haven't been on the Heritage trail with Ben, but he's talked about it. It's not for beginners, that's for sure. I'm determined the old guy won't think I'm a tenderfoot, but that dream takes a nose-dive the first time we have to stop and walk a stretch. I put the snow shoes on, but even though I'd done this a dozen times, and I can hear Ben's voice in my head - 'Weight forward, heel down' - I still manage to end up flat on my face in the snow.

"Oh for God's sake, Yank. Haven't you used them before?"

"Yeah, I have. I just tripped, okay?" I stand up and dust off the snow with as much dignity as I can, which isn't much.

Fraser gives me a disgusted look and sets off, never looking to see if I keep up. There goes my reputation, I think.

The going gets progressively more difficult, and we use the dogs only about two thirds of the time. I'm worried that we won't get to the Pump Station before dark, but I keep my worries to myself, since it won't help. It's well below freezing, but we're working so hard, I'm in danger of overheating. I'm certainly not as fit as I thought I was, even though I'm a lot better than when I left Chicago. Ben had been working me out every chance we got, and when the days were too dark for any serious field practice, he had me going over the theory - the first aid, the geography, the reasons why we do this and avoid that. And when all that got too boring, he told me more about Franklin, with us lying in bed, me listening like I'm hypnotized by the warm honey of his voice. Oh, shit. Stop it, Kowalski. Getting all teared up is not gonna help your partner.

Fraser sets us a hard pace, and once he decides I'm nothing but a burden, he stops asking me how I'm getting on. He just assumes I'm useless, which annoys the piss out of me, but at least I don't have to make nice with him. I'm not as useless as he thinks, but you'd never get him to admit that. The sun is just down below the horizon when we finally get to the Pump Station, and we call a halt, me breathing like a steam engine. I swear the old bastard hasn't even worked up a sweat. He sets up the tent while I unhitch the dogs, peg them down and feed them. He hasn't said more than three words to me in as many hours, although he'd grunt now and then to indicate we had to go this or that way, or that I should get on or off the sled. I'm too tired to care - almost too tired to remember why we're out here.

I get a lamp and start to look for kindling, and manage to scare up enough wood to make some sort of fire. The old guy gives me a look as I set it, as if to say, see how the Yank messes this up, but he doesn't say anything until it's ablaze. "See you learned one thing from Benton at least." That does it.

"Look, I don't care what you think of me, or how stupid you think I am, old timer, I'm here. And I'm going nowhere but with you. So can the sarcasm, ok?"

"That's easy for you to say, Yank. It's not you who has to save my behind because I'm in over my head."

"I seem to remember it was you invited yourself along on this little trip."

"Oh, and I suppose you would be here right now without my help?"

"I might be - no skin off your nose if I wasn't."

"And in the meantime, my son could be lying injured waiting for help."

"Hey, look here, mister - your son would be **_dead_** if I hadn't decided to come up here."

He looks at me for a long minute. "Yes. Yes he would. He might be, for all that," he says quietly. I think we're both ashamed of ourselves.

"Listen, I'm sorry..."

He cuts me off. "No need to apologize, son ... Ray. It's been a long day. Let's eat and turn in. We need sleep. Tomorrow's going to be tough - we've got to cross the mountains."

We eat a quick meal in silence. I'm not hungry, again, and again, I make myself eat. Got to stay strong, got to be ready to help Ben. Can't let him down.

Fraser douses the fire, we each relieve ourselves and crawl inside the Arctic tent. Ben and me have been practicing this sleeping outside in the freezing weather by setting up in his yard, but I haven't done this before - not bone tired, next to a stranger, worried sick that the man I love is lying dead, a broken mass of bones in a canyon fifty miles from where I'm lying, and worried even more that he's still alive, and me just lying here sleeping in relative comfort means he's slowly freezing to death. Dief lies next to me, and I bury my face in his warm, furry, living neck, and try not to cry, not to think. But even being as quiet as I can, Fraser knows what I'm thinking about.

"We'll find him, son. We will, I know it."

"I believe you, sir."

Silence in the dark. "Call me Bob, Ray."

"Goodnight ... Bob." He rolls over, and is breathing steadily and evenly within two minutes. Dief snores, but it's a sound I sleep to most nights, and in a funny way, it helps. I dream of Ben.

 

* * *

I'm awake before him, and have the fire started and water boiling before he climbs out of the tent. He grunts at me and goes to check the dogs, and put down water and kibble. It's still completely dark, but we both know that we need to cover a lot of ground today - if Ben **_is_** still alive, another night in the cold brings him closer to not being alive. Bob radios in our position and reports, and gets the weather forecast. It's not good. The temperature dropped over night, which is good for us sledding, but there's bad weather to come - days of it. He looks at me, but he knows he doesn't have to explain to the tenderfoot what this means. I realize I'm putting a hell of a lot of faith in a man who's nearly retired, and a lot of responsibility onto old shoulders - for me, Ben - for Dief. But there's nothing I can do about it now, except pull my weight. We go over the plan for the day. We're hoping to cross the direct line between Ben's last known position and the cliff where the body was spotted by early afternoon - of course, that leaves us with a hell of a lot of territory to cover by nightfall. We're packed up and already walking out of the campsite as pre-dawn hits.

It's really fucking cold - the temperature has dropped 20 degrees. We make really good time considering the terrain and the climbing, which is just as well, because the clear sky is clouding over fast and the wind is also picking up. We stop to spell the dogs at noon, grab bites of pemmican, a power bar each, thermos coffee. He's worked out we're about an hour from crossing the trail.

"Then do we go forward or back?" I ask.

He rubs his chin. "Well, now, that's the tricky question. Assuming the body in the gorge is not Ben..."

"Which it isn't," I say emphatically.

He looks at me with wise sad eyes. "Which for the moment we'll assume it isn't, then Ben might have gone in another direction - unless he was with whoever went over the edge until he fell." He doesn't add, 'or fell with him.'

"So we backtrack?"

"Well, ideally one of us would go back and the other forward, but this isn't ideal. So I say we go back, and see if Diefenbaker can pick up the scent."

Tough on Dief. There's been some snow - not masses, but the trail is two days old. But he's our only hope. If we back track at walking pace to Ben's old position, that will take us two hours from crossing the trail. We'll either be two hours closer to finding him ... or it'll be more two hours with him lying somewhere needing our help. "Let's go," I say.

He times an hour and takes his bearings, looks around, and hoots with delight. "Got it! Haven't lost it yet, Bob Fraser. There's the sled track." He points at a bit of snow which looks like every other bit of snow, but I nod enthusiastically anyway. I let Dief off the harness - he hasn't been pulling the sled, but damned if he would sit on it either. Ben'll kill me if that do...wolf gets sick on me again. I take his furry face in my hands and make him look at my face. "Find Fraser," I enunciate, and he licks me, barks and starts sniffing. Unfortunately after five minutes he turns around and gives me a 'was that a trick question?' look, which means we have to do it the old fashioned way. Bob follows the sled trail back, Dief racing ahead and sniffing, me walking alongside, temporarily useless, which gives me too much damn time to think. The wind is picking up and I shiver, and then I think of Ben lying out in the cold somewhere ... it's getting harder and harder to be positive, which is dumb when we're so close to possibly finding him.

We walk for a little over an hour - the light is going, the clouds are getting real thick, and I know any minute now Bob is going to say we have to call a halt. If he does, I'm gonna ignore him, I swear. But then Dief barks, gets hysterical almost, at something in the snow. Bob needs to use his flashlight to be sure - but there's blood on the snow. And from Dief's reaction, it can only be Ben's. There's a **_lot_** of blood.  And tracks. I look at Bob. "Wolves, a coyote too," he says calmly, but his eyes are worried. My gut goes into a knot.

"He can't be far away, can he?"

"He's a Fraser, Ray. He could be anywhere, even with this. He'd still be on his man's trail, no matter what."

"Yeah, but pretend he's a ordinary human being, will ya? Where would he go if he was hurt and acting sensible, and looking for somewhere to hole up."

"A cave, possibly - there are a few around here, although there's bears .. possibly he might just dig a hole in the snow."

"For two days?"

"Oh you can stay in a snow shelter for a good while, if you know what you're doing, Ray."

"But if we assume he's got no equipment, and no food - a cave, right?"

"Probably, yes."

"Then where the hell are they around here?"

"All over the place, Ray." Well, that's a help, thanks, Pops.

I call Dief. "Dief, go find him. Go, boy." I hope our wolf finds Ben before the others do. As he sets off I see that there's a small leather bag on the ground. A tobacco pouch maybe. I pick it up and stuff it into my pocket - we can look at it later.

Dief sniffles about, and takes off into the trees. The storm is whipping up, and we're gonna need shelter ourselves in an hour, and if Dief is chasing a rabbit instead of Ben, we've just run out of time. But he's dogged - hah!, and seems to know what's he's doing. The light has just about gone when he does his hysterical 'Little Timmy's fallen into the well' act - and damn, it **_is_** a well. A hole in the ground, anyway. We're struggling now, with the wind, the dogs, and there's no time to screw around. I get a rope around my waist, and tie it to a tree. I look inside the hole - not deep, maybe eight feet, but more than just a shaft. The entrance is not much bigger than me. "Get the sled unloaded, " I shout against the wind, "I'm going in. We can use it tonight."

He nods, and then I let myself down. The way down isn't straight - we'll be able to get back up without a rope if we have to - and in the beam of the flashlight I see something immediately. Ben! I scramble up the shaft and shout at Bob, "He's here!". Bob gives me a thumbs up, but he's gotta concentrate on getting the dogs loose and the sled loaded and in with us. The dogs will sleep in the snow - they won't come inside anyway, but old Dief has already joined me, and is licking Ben's face. I untie the rope and throw it back up the hole, then go over to him, pulling my gloves off so I can feel his skin. He's unconscious, and so still it's scary. I can't find a pulse. The only hope I have is that Dief seems ok - I mean, don't wolves howl or something when the lead male dies? He's real cold. I bend close, and I think I can just about feel him breathing.

I'm just about to yell for Bob when our gear starts coming down the hole. Sleeping bags. Great. Propane lamp, better. I light the lamp and get it over to Ben. God, he's pale. Have to find out if he's bleeding and where from. He's curled over real tight, not shivering which is a bad sign, and I know, from having him drill me like a hundred times, that I have to be careful moving him cos of that hypothermia thing. I can hear him telling me how the cold blood hits the heart and stops it, if you're not careful. Not on my watch, I tell myself. I pull a sleeping bag out of its case and get it under Ben's head, then bring the lantern closer and start checking him. Bob comes over just as I find the blood on his leg.

"Hold this," he tells me, picking the lantern up and giving it to me. I watch as he uses his pocket knife to tear a bigger hole around the smaller one. He doesn't need to tell me - it's a bullet wound. "It's gone through - see?" showing me the match on the other side. Ben's bled a lot, but the blood is dry. How long has he been down here? And how long has it been since he's been awake?

"We need to check him for frostbite and get him warm. Get his shoes off, I'll check his hands.

Ben's feet are icy, but dry, and apparently OK. Now we have the lamp I can see that Ben must have been awake at some point because there's the remains of a fire - hopefully that means he's not been unconscious for two days. I put a thick clean pair of socks on him, and then the old dirty ones over the top, leaving his shoes off. "We should get him into a sleeping bag."

Bob shakes his head. "It's not enough, one of us will have to get in there with him, and Dief next to him. He's not making his own heat yet."

"Uh, I'll get in. We've ... practiced, you know, for the trip."

Bob doesn't question it. Ben's hands are also in good shape, and Bob puts the spare gloves I packed for him on over the thin ones he's wearing - Ben's own thick gloves are missing. I brought extra of everything, spare sleeping bag, the lot - I can wear his clothes, and I figured he might have lost all his kit - which he has. Bob is testing the floor - it's dirt - so we can light a fire. We'll keep the propane to heat food when we run out of fuel. I lay down a mat, then open up the sleeping bag next to the cave wall, and we slide Ben onto it. I take off his coat - he's not producing any warmth to get out, and he needs my heat to get in. Then Bob gets the medical kit and bandages Ben's wound over the top of his jeans, cleaning the blood away and slicing off the yucky material of his pants. It'll have to do - we're a long way from the hospital, and we know we'll be storm bound for two days. "Did you radio in?" I ask, getting ready to lie next to Ben, while Bob zips up the second bag around us. I call Dief over and he settles in front of Ben. I put one arm under Ben's head, and the other around him, and pull him close. Bob throws my coat over us both, and gives me Ben's so I can use it as a pillow.

"No luck - storm."

So we're on our own. While I'm cocooned with Ben, his father is warming water, making broth and storing some in the thermos - when Ben wakes, he'll need warm fluid, lots of it. But the immediate problem is warming him up, and that we can only do with our body heat, and whatever comes off the little fire.

"Bears?" I suddenly remember. The cave is not that big. Bob says the entrance is too small, and the cave's the wrong shape. Cave is the wrong name for it, but it's too big to be a shaft. What's important is that it's sheltered from the howling wind, it's dry, at least where we are, and there's ventilation. Trust Ben to choose the right place to hole up, even hypothermic and bleeding.

Now we're settled and Bob is busy sorting out our gear, separating what we need immediately from the stuff which we don't need inside the cave, like the tent, I can finally take stock and realize that we've done what we planned - we found Ben - alive - and hopefully in enough time to save him. At least he was dry when we found him - if he'd been wet, and outside for two days, even Benton Fraser would be dead by now. How much blood did he lose? That's bad, on top of the hypothermia.

I put my hand on his face. So cold. He's so pale, in the flickering firelight, and so still. I want him to wake up and be snarky, tell me off for dragging his Dad out here on a fool's errand. But he's barely breathing, or so it seems. I lie with him like that for a couple of hours and eat some hot food with Ben leaning against me. He's soaking the heat out of me - it's like sleeping with an ice pack, and we don't need two hypothermia victims. Bob feeds Dief, and himself, then settles in his sleeping bag next to the fire which he'll keep stoked up as best he can. The wind outside is sucking the smoke straight out - it's also sucking the heat out of the cave, but there's nothing we can do about it.

"Bob? Where do we, uh... whizz?" He points over to the corner. "You're kidding! It'll stink."

"Nope. Unless you want to go outside in this. And we need the snow near the entrance for water - you go contaminating that and you'll have more to worry about than a little smell. I've seen worse, believe me."

Grumbling, I don't argue with him, and struggle out of the bag to sort my bladder out. It's damn cold, and I just want to stay with Ben and get him warm, warm myself up. I wish Dief would sleep ** _inside_** the bag - I know he's like a radiator - but there's no way he'd do that. I wrap myself around Ben as close as I can, and try to sleep.

 

* * *

It's an eerie low moaning noise that wakes me up - scares the hell out of me, sounds like a ghost. I wonder if it's the wind, or even Dief, but when it happens again, I realize it's Ben. Bob's already awake and has the torch on.

"Is he awake?" he asks quietly.

I twist so I can see Ben's face. His eyes are moving behind his lids, and his mouth is open, and that horrible sound comes out, softly, but like he's in pain. Which he probably is. "Ben? Ben, wake up. It's Ray."

His face twists a little. "Ray?" His voice is terribly quiet, I can barely hear it, but he is conscious, which is a relief. But then he just whispers in a slurred way, "Leg... hurts..." then he seems to drop off again, and me calling and gently shaking him makes no difference.

Bob looks at me, and shakes his head. "Give it more time, Ray. It's a good sign."

"He's in pain," I say sharply. I'm rattled, don't mind admitting that - Ben saying he's in pain is like the Pope saying he thinks condoms are a good idea. Ben has to be really hurting to complain.

"There's nothing we can do about that. He can't swallow while he's unconscious, and he shouldn't take aspirin or anything else while he's hypothermic - didn't he tell you that?"

"Yeah, but ..."

"Just go back to sleep, Ray. There's nothing more we can do at the moment."   
 

The cold wakes me up a few hours later - I check my watch, and we've been in 'bed' for over eight hours, so my body is telling me I should be up anyway. Ben's still unconscious - let's call it sleeping, will we, Kowalski, just to be positive - so I slide out carefully, and have a pee. But when I come back, Ben's wriggling a little and mumbling, so he's trying to wake up again. I find the thermos Bob filled last night - he's still sound asleep, with the fire dead, but we can wait a little for that to be rebuilt. I find a torch, get inside the bag, turn Ben towards me and say his name quietly so as not to wake up his father.

"Ray?"

"I'm here, Ben. You gonna wake up for me? Open your eyes, Ben." I put my hand on his face - still so cold - and suddenly his eyes pop open. I nearly drop the flask in shock.

"Ben - are you with me, buddy?"

"Where..."

He swallows, and can't keep talking. He must be real thirsty, with being out for so long, and the blood loss and all that. I pour out some warm broth into the flask cup, and hold it near his mouth. "Try some of this for me, Ben." I hold his head up, and he takes a small, careful sip, swallowing it as if it hurts. Then another, before he closes his eyes. "Come on, Ben, more. You gotta get fluids inside you." He pulls a face but he slowly gets a half cup of liquid into him. I decide that has to be enough - don't want him throwing up.

"Do you know where you are, Ben?"

His eyes are closed again. "Muldoon," he says in a whisper, like a groan of pain.

"What did he just say?"

I jump. "Jee-zus, Pops, do you mind?"

"What did he say?" Bob asks again, completely unconcerned he just took ten years growth off me. He's lit the lantern - it's only three a.m.

"Muldoon, I think. I guess he's babbling."

"Yes, that would be it. Is he still awake?"

I shake Ben carefully, and he moans a little. "I think so. He's had some broth."

"How much?"

"Half a cup."

"Not enough. I'll heat some water. Did you bring any sugar?"

"Yeah - but I got something better than that if it's for him. See that pack there?"

I point and he gets it. I open it, and haul out the pound jar of specialty honey that my brother sent me. Bob grins. "That was smart thinking, Ray."

While he boils up some water, I concentrate on trying to get Ben to wake up and talk. His face is twisted and I guess it's the pain again. We're gonna have matching scars - I got shot in the leg, in the thigh, about seven years ago, and it hurt like a sonofabitch, I can tell you. Had to keep off it like forever, or they said I'd limp for the rest of my life. But some of the pain must be from the cold - the sooner we get some warmth **_inside_** him the better. He's mumbling again, and the only word I can make out from time to time is my name. It's flattering that even out of his mind, he's thinking of me, but it's not exactly the reunion conversation I was dreaming about. I stroke his face and try and get him to concentrate. I know the hypothermia will be making him a bit nutso - he told me how the brain sort of shuts down - but he's got pretty good willpower. If I can just get through to him, he can fight through the confusion, or so I'm hoping.

"Look, Ben, something nice and warm. You want to sit up for me? There, that's it." Bob hands me the mug of sweetened hot water - we can't give him tea or coffee either. I taste the water, and get Bob to add more honey - Ben's got a sweet tooth nearly as bad as mine, and anyway, since he's not likely to eat for a while, we got to get the energy into him. This time he drinks a little more easily, even though he's still having trouble just with the mechanics of swallowing. He finishes it and actually says "no" when I ask if he wants more, so now we're communicating. I stay sitting up, and he's lying back against me, his head on my stomach, my arms wrapped around him, and Dief on his good side. Until now, Bob's been patient, letting me deal with him, but now he comes and sits close and peers at Ben's face.

"Son, are you awake? It's me, Dad."

I feel Ben's head move a little, in a tiny head shake. "No, Dad's dead." His eyes are closed.

Bob sits back on his heels, shocked as hell. "Ben, " I say," "look, your father's right here in front of you."

"Gerrard killed him, Ray," Ben says sadly in a fading voice.

I try shaking him a little to wake him up but he won't open his eyes, and it looks as if he's gone back to sleep. "What the fuck? 'Scuse the French - why would he think you were dead?"

"He's confused. Gerrard was another Mountie - I arrested him. He killed another officer to try and hide his corrupt involvement in a hydroelectric dam development. He made threats against me at his trial, but he's safe in prison. Benton must think ... well, he's not himself, you can see that. I mean, why would he mention...?"

Bob stops speaking and turns his back, fiddling with the fire. I sigh. There's no figuring this family and right now I got more important things to worry about. I slide Ben down and get in beside him. All of a sudden he rolls over and faces me so I've got no choice but to hold him in what looks like a clinch. God help us. Bob's looking at me, and I give him a sickly smile. "Like you said, he's not himself."

Bob grunts, and gets back into his own sleeping bag. I give a mental whistle of relief. I do not want to be dealing with Sergeant Bob Fraser's reaction to having a gay son and his lover cuddling up three feet from him. It's all in how you look at it - I know I'm just warming Ben up, and right now, so does Bob. But as soon as he knows we're sleeping together, then he'll be wondering, and I just don't want to do that right now.

I pull the bag over our heads, and then we've got some privacy as well as extra warmth. Finally I can do what I've wanted to do since we found my guy and that's to kiss his forehead and tell him I love him. To my delight, his lips against my neck move - he's kissing me back, and I hear a little "Ray", which tells me, ' I love you, too.' I smile - he's not out of the woods by a long shot, but at least we've had a chance to say that again. Stop it, Kowalski - you sound like he's dying. He's just cold, you gotta warm him up. I try and arrange things so there's not an ounce of wasted heat. Then I try and go back to sleep. After an hour or two, I manage it.

When I wake again, there's a little dim light coming down the cave entrance, but snow too and a howling draft. I sit up carefully, trying to protect Ben from the worst of it. Bob's sitting there, heating some water.

"This is no good, it's just as cold in here as it is outside," I bitch.

"We're out of the wind, at least. What's the option?"

I think and check out the size of the cave. "Have we got enough room to put the tent up? Ben's never gonna warm up like this."

He looks around, and nods. "It's a little unorthodox, but there's room - if I sleep in there with you, which would probably be a good thing. Give me a hand."

I climb out of the bag, making sure that Dief is still close enough to keep Ben warm - he's been so good, that wolf. He knows Ben is sick and has stayed right by him, apart from a couple of excursions outside to piss, and presumably laugh at the other dogs who have to sleep out ... "Hang on, why don't we bring the dogs in - I mean, is there any reason ..."

He shakes his head. "Not a good idea, son. They're okay up there, but they'll fight if we bring them in here."

"Just a thought."

The tent is a three-man, which translates to a tight squeeze for two adults, but there's just enough dry floor for it, the fire outside and our gear. The back and front of the cave is damp. Once it's up, we have to roll Ben out of the sleeping bag and off the mat. He stirs. "Ray? Where...?"

"It's okay, Ben, you're safe. I'm here, your dad's here."

"Dad?"

Bob kneels by him. "I'm here, son."

Oh for god's sake, Bob, take his hand - make him understand. But he just kneels there, waiting for Ben to open his eyes. So I take Ben's hand, and squeeze it. "Look, Ben - see? It's him." Ben does open his eyes then, and Bob peers in at him.

"What are you doing here, Dad?" Ben almost sounds normal, and a little annoyed. I smile, despite being worried.

"You're in trouble, son. Got a hole in your leg, lost out in the snow. I don't know what they teach you young fellas these days - losing your man, getting shot, losing your sled. Rookie mistakes."

I feel like whacking the old guy for a second, and then think that this is probably normal for the way he talks to Ben, which will help Ben feel that things **_are_** normal. To my surprise, Ben reaches a hand up and grabs the front of Bob's jacket in a weak grasp. "Dad... Muldoon." Bob looks horrified.

"That's what he said before - who is this guy?"

"A dead man. Obviously he's still not right in the head."

But Ben shakes his head feebly. "Not dead, Dad. Muldoon ... not dead."

Bob pats the hand holding him then detaches it. "Take it easy, Benton. This isn't the time or the place for this. Come on, Ray, he's losing heat while we're jabbering here."

We get Ben inside the tent with Dief. I take the opportunity to pee and to get some food and some coffee. Bob looks thoughtful - there's more to this 'Muldoon' thing than he's letting on but he sure as hell doesn't want to talk about it in front of me. I fill the thermos with broth to keep in the tent, and make Ben another cup of hot honey water. I remember I stashed some chocolate and find it - he's not likely to want to eat, but it's easier to get down than anything else we've brought. I get inside the tent and zip it up - Bob's gone up to check the dogs and he's going to eat and stretch - translation, he's delaying being cooped up with the three of us as long as possible. It's much warmer inside the tent just because we've cut down the draft, and I'm kicking myself that we didn't think of this last night. Still, Ben was pretty well protected most of the time - I hope it didn't make too much difference.

The propane lamp throws off heat as well as light, and all in all the tent's cosy. Ben's actually still awake when I go in, and his eyes track mine. "Hey, sleeping beauty - how are you feeling?" I settle in next to him, and help him sit up against me.

"Not so good, Ray." Oh fuck. That definitely translates to 'Ray, my friend, I feel like shit and I'm glad my will's up to date.'

I get him to drink the hot water, and he's definitely better at this than he was yesterday. He even drinks some broth as well, and when I congratulate him, he smiles and says "You're doing all the right things."

That makes me feel happier than I have done in two days. "Well, I should be, considering. You've spent enough time training me."

He grins again, but then his expression changes. "Ray - did you find Muldoon?"

Oh hell. Should I lie so he doesn't fret? He doesn't seem out of it, but on the other hand, his dad seemed to think we shouldn't talk about it. "Ben, Muldoon ... he's not around."

"He is," he says sharply, and now I realize I'd better start paying attention. If he's willing to spend energy he doesn't have talking about this, I'd better make sure that I listen.

"Your dad said Muldoon's dead, Ben."

He shakes his head, then winces - I guess he's got a rotten headache. "No, he's not. We thought he was, but he's not."

Well, at least that makes a sort of sense. "Who is this guy? Did he shoot you?"

For some reason this hits Ben hard, and his face crumples. "He ... he ..."

Oh damn, now Ben's eyes are leaking water. He's got to stay calm. "It's okay, Ben - you're safe here. Just settle down, will ya?"

He turns toward me, burying his face in my shirt. I rub his back. What the hell is going on here? I've never seen Ben cry, or even ever get that worked up about things - okay, he gets annoyed, but it's always a controlled annoyed, like he always knows how far he can go before he drives me right round the bend. I feel him calm a little so I lift his head away from me. "Mum," he whispers, and then his eyes close. He's gone off again. I slide him down flat and turn the lantern off.

Not five minutes later Bob unzips the tent and gets in. "It's bad out there, Ray - it's going to be another two days, for sure."

"We've got supplies, right? I mean, we're okay?"

"Sure we are. And the more we can warm Benton up before we move out, the better."

"Bob, Ben said you thought Muldoon was dead, but he's not. Are you sure he's dead?"

I can't see his face in the dark, but there's no mistaking the chill in his voice. "Oh, yes, he's dead, Ray. I killed him."

Fuck. "Ben said 'Mum' too - is there a connection?"

"In a fashion." Nothing more.

"You mind telling me what?"

"As a matter of fact I do. It's personal, and I don't want to talk about it in front of..."

"Ben? Or me?"

"Either of you. How is he?"

Okay. End of discussion. "He's better - had more liquid, and I thought he was a bit more alert, until he started talking about the dead guy."

I hear Bob grunt. "That's good. Well, carry on. You better lie down beside him. It'll take a long time before he's warm enough to be out of danger."

That puts me back in my box for sure. I obey anyway - he's right, even if he's annoying. Once again Ben turns towards me and wants to cuddle - cute, if embarrassing, the way he does this in his sleep. He does it at home too.

I'm not sleepy - even at my laziest, ten hours is my limit - but Bob is not in the mood to talk, it's dark, cosy and boring, and so I doze off simply because there is not a lot else to do, and it's the best thing for Ben, after all. I'm startled out of sleep by Ben's clutching at me, and half yelling, half wailing. He's not making sense, just saying 'Muldoon', and 'Mum' and 'don't'. We have to get him calmed down - his heart is still at risk from the hypothermia. I feel Bob get hold of him on the other side, and hear him soothing him - it's the most fatherly I've heard him. In the dark, I can risk kissing Ben's face, and whispering in his ear. He goes limp all of a sudden.

"Get the lamp." Bob lights it, and I look at Ben - he's asleep, or unconscious again. His breathing sounds a little better, and his face is slightly warmer to the touch. But if him warming up is going to give him nightmares, that's not much of an improvement. I glare at his Dad. "Right, now you're gonna tell me about Muldoon. This is beyond a joke."

"Do you need the lamp?" he deflects. I tell him no so he puts it out. I hear him shuffling about - can't tell if he's lying down or sitting up. Then he speaks quietly. "Holloway Muldoon was a friend - one of the best trackers in the Territories. When I say 'a friend', I mean he was a good friend. But he used that friendship with me to cover up his illegal activities."

"So you killed him for that?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, man - use your brain. Of course not. He murdered someone, I was sent to bring him in. I caught him up at Six Mile Canyon - we ... fought, and he went over. I saw his body. No one could have survived. That was thirty years ago."

"Did he have a brother, or a son, or someone who looked like him so that Ben could mistake him?"

"Not that I'm aware of, Ray. I think Benton's just confused."

"I'm not confused, Dad." God, another heart attack. Ben's voice is soft, but clear, and he sounds compost mentos. "It was Muldoon, clear as day. He looks just like the photos I've seen of him. A little grayer - that's all."

"Did he shoot you? Do you remember what happened?"

I can feel Ben shifting, and I rearrange myself automatically to keep him warm. He finds my hand and holds it. "I found Jackson the trapper, just after my last radio report - or rather he found me, and ambushed me. We struggled and he knocked me down, took the sled. Shot me in the leg, the sonofabitch." Wow, that's the most pissed off I've ever heard Ben sound. "I crawled up the hill, holed up on the mountain, out of sight. Not long after the trapper left, another dog sled came along on the same trail. Muldoon - Dad, it was him, I swear. He stopped and looked at the snow where we fought, and then followed the sled's trail."

I can feel him getting agitated, and I pat his chest to tell him to calm down. "So Muldoon was after your man too," Bob says. "Any idea why?"

"I really have no idea, Dad."

I remember something. "I found this just near where we picked up Ben's trail - I forgot about it because we took off." I ask Bob to relight the lamp. I pull the leather pouch out and open it. "Pebbles?"

"Diamonds," Bob says quietly. I stare at him. The things look as valueless as sand. "Uncut, of course. Probably from right here in the Territories." I hand them over to him, and he looks at them carefully in the light.

"Jackson must have dropped them when we fought," Ben says. "Muldoon must be after them."

While Bob's checking out the rocks, I remember that since Ben's awake, we should be getting hot stuff inside him, so I call a halt while I pour out some broth and get him to drink it. Definitely an improvement - he doesn't need any urging, and finishes the flask's contents. He lies back against me. "How are you feeling?" I ask him.

"Better."

"Still in pain?" He nods. There's nothing we can do. The sooner he's in the hospital the better, but at least it looks as if he'll actually make it there.

"Why did you come, Ray?"

"They ... God, Ben, they found a body over a cliff near here - with your hat, your sled, everything. Said it was you. But I knew it couldn't be, right?"

"Right." I hear, rather than see him smile. "Thank you." I give him a hug under the cover of the sleeping bag. He knows why I wouldn't give him up.

"So," I ask Bob, "this Muldoon guy's a thief?"

"No," Ben answer for him. "A smuggler. Anything - furs, gold, stolen goods. He only dealt in the best."

"So who did he kill - a customer? The one who you went after him for, I mean."

Bob doesn't answer. "Yes, Dad, that's something you never told me. Who was it he murdered?"

"A woman. You don't need to know the details."

Bob's voice definitely says, 'no more' and to make his point, he turns off the lantern again without asking. But to my surprise, Ben persists. "When I saw him again, Dad, I suddenly saw Mum's face. What was the connection between Mum and him?"

"Who said there had to be a connection? It was obviously the hypothermia, son - doing things to your brain."

He doesn't even convince me and Ben's voice is hard in the darkness. "I wasn't hypothermic when I saw him, Dad."

"Well, the bullet wound then. Good grief, when did you learn to badger your father like this, Benton?"

"When he started to lie to me. Now tell me the truth."

"You can't handle it. Not while you're sick. Wait until we get out of here." Right on cue, Ben starts to cough - God, he doesn't need pneumonia on top of this. "You see, getting all worked up isn't doing you any good. Go back to sleep, son. We can talk about this some other time."

Ben's not having it and in fact is trying to sit up. I think he probably wants to strangle his Dad for not answering his question. "Stay down, Ben, it's too cold."

"I have to move, Ray. My lungs are getting congested, and I'm cramping."

Alarmed I move him upright faster than is good for him and he groans. "Sorry, Ben." He pats my hand.

"Dad? I'm waiting."

Bob's got no chance - I know what Ben's like when he gets an idea into his skull, and Dief with a rat has nothing on the Mountie with a suspect. I hear Bob exhale. "You really won't want to hear this ..."

"Dad!"

"All right, but I warned you. The woman he killed was your mother. Muldoon shot her. That's why I went after him. Now, I'm going to heat up some more of that broth - give me the thermos, Ray." I feel his hand brush mine, and I find the flask and shove it at him. Without another word, he climbs out of the tent and zips it shut. He lights the lamp outside and there's a glow coming in through the thin walls of the tent.

Well, thank you so much, Bob Fraser, for dropping the bomb and leaving me here with your freaked out son, wondering what the fuck this is going to do to him. Ben's silent, but he's stiff, so I know he's not asleep - as if he would be after that. "Ben? Ben - talk to me."

"I'm all right, Ray."

I urge him to roll back and face me. Then I know that Ben has lied to me for the first time because whatever he is, he is not all right. He's sick, he's in pain, and he's just found out his mother was murdered - and that he was spitting distance from her killer three days ago. His eyes are huge in the dim glow, and the way they're picking up the light, I know they're wet. I bend down and kiss him on the mouth, and damn his Dad. "I'm so sorry, Ben," I whisper. "We'll get this guy, don't worry - as soon as you're safe. Just like you did for me."

He gives me a smile then his eyes screw up and the tears start to fall. I know this is because he's ill and weak and shocked, but his loss of control still frightens me. I pull him close to me and rub his back, lie down so we're nose to nose. Even now with all this, he's not bawling his head off - the tears are just trickling down, and he's quiet. I hold him, and stroke his face. There's nothing I can say - not to him. I got plenty I want to say to the asshole he calls a dad, if the chickenshit ever gets back in here. Actually - no. Ben's upset enough. If I start fighting with his old man, when the guy's practically my father-in-law, it'll kill Ben. Pity the respect doesn't go both ways.

I'm rocking Ben and wonder if I'm hurting him but it looks as if he's dropped off again, which can only be good. He's the most awake he's been since we found him but he's still damn cold and sick, and needed that bit of news like a hole in the head. Why couldn't the old bastard have lied? Like his Mountie honor is more important than his son's health?

I hold Ben for a couple of hours. He's restless, and calling to me in his sleep - what his Dad makes of that, I have no idea and less interest. I try and calm him down but he's getting more and more agitated until I think he might be better off awake. Trying to wake him up isn't having any effect, and suddenly he lets out this piercing scream which makes my blood run colder than his must be. "Mum!" he yells - and he sounds like the little boy he was when she died. He keeps calling her, tears running down his face, the pain in his voice is killing me.

"Get your butt in here, old-timer," I yell - Ben's going to hurt himself thrashing about, and I can't control him. Dief's barking his head off - fortunately the second the zipper goes, he bolts out, and the noise disappears as he presumably heads outside to get away from the racket. Bob grabs Ben around the shoulders and holds him still while I slap his face gently, and call his name. It takes longer than I'd like but eventually he stops yelling and crying and quiets down. Then his eyes open, and the first person he sees is his father. I hope to God I'm never on the receiving end of a look like that - it really shakes his dad up. Good. I push Bob back. "I think you'd better stay out for a while."

He sits back on his haunches and looks at both of us, his eyes unreadable. Then he nods, gets his bag and mat, and goes out again. That old guy and me have really got to talk. Ben's calling my name again, but this time he's awake.

"I'm here. You gotta calm down, Ben, you're scaring the life out of me."

I stroke his face, wipe the wet away from under his eyes. He puts his hand up and stops mine. "Ray - I remember it. I was there when she died," he whispers.

Oh jesus. Please let this be a phantom memory - but something tells me we've found the reason for Ben's nightmares. I try to stay as calm as I can - no point me adding my mad to his, not that I don't badly want to hit someone - but I can't imagine what he's going through. Just then the man I want to kill puts his head through the flap. I growl "Out" at him, but he hands me the thermos and a cup of hot water. Hell. I forgot about that. I mutter "thanks" but he's gone and the zipper is closed before the word gets out of my mouth.

"Come on, Ben. You have to drink this - you'll feel better."

I put the cup down and help him sit. He's moving a little easier - if things weren't so bad, they'd be good, I think and then wonder if this hypothermia thing is catching. His face is still wet but this time he takes the cup from me and drinks without help, and reaches for the flask without prompting. I don't let him handle that - the last thing we need is soup-covered sleeping bags but he drinks nearly the whole flask which reminds me I'd better go looking for chow soon myself. I remember the chocolate, and break it out. He looks at it, then up at me. "Ray, you have some - you've got to look after yourself."

"Plenty for both of us, Benton buddy. You gotta eat." I give him a little bit and he holds it in his mouth, letting it dissolve. More to humor me than because he's hungry, I guess - he said that hypothermia depresses the appetite, and at least him knowing that means he's trying to push past it. On impulse, I lean over and kiss him, putting my tongue in his mouth, giving him the chocolate I've got, tasting what he has. I know sex is the last thing on his mind but I want us to connect to give him something nice to think about. Back when I first came up to Norman Wells, he got me through a bad time with his love and his touch - well, now it's my turn. He's responding, not with huge passion, but with enough warmth to show he appreciates what I'm trying to do. I lay him flat and almost lie on top of him, watching out for his bad leg. If his dad comes in now, he'll have a heart attack. We can only hope.

I kiss him long and deep, trying to show how much I love and need him and worry about him. When I let his mouth free his glove covered hand comes up and plays in my hair. "Ray," he murmurs. He can say so much with that word.

"Ben, I know this is bad for you, but we'll get through it. You gotta hang on for me. I can't do this on my own." I don't add, 'and be kicking your dad's butt at the same time.'

"What about Diefenbaker?"

He's teasing me a little, playing up to what I'm trying to do. "Dief's cute, but he's not much in the sack. Of course, if things don't work out..."

"I think you should know that Dief's resolutely heterosexual, Ray."

"I knew that. That's why you gotta come through for me." I kiss him again. There's a sad smile on his face. I haven't made him forget - how could I? But I've reminded him of what he's got in his life now, and I hope that's enough.

"You know we have another problem," he says seriously.

"Oh shit, what?" I'm almost panicking. I thought we had everything covered.

"I need to urinate."

I look at him in disbelief. I'm so fucking relieved, I collapse on top of him and laugh almost until I'm sick.

"God help us, Fraser, if that's the biggest problem you've got, you're doin' ok."

I think about the logistics. The easiest thing is probably to drag him out of the tent with Bob's help, and get him upright outside, if he can. If he can't, we'll need to find ourself a pee-jar. When I explain this to him, he's adamant that he can stand, with help. I tell him to wait and climb out of the tent.

Bob's sitting against the wall, half in his sleeping bag, his eyes closed. They open when he hears me. "Your son needs to pee," I say rudely.

"You're angry with me," he says mildly.

"More than angry, Pops. You don't know how close I am to knocking your fool head off." I know Ben can probably hear this, but I try and keep my voice down anyway.

"I don't suppose it would help to remind you that it was my wife, and not just Ben's mother who was killed? We did things differently in those days. I didn't know what to do with him. He acted like he couldn't remember, and everyone I asked, doctors, teachers, they all said it was for the best and that I shouldn't talk about it. What did I know? Raising a son on my own - wife killed like that. What would you have done?"

I look at him, and then I can't look at him any more. Great, Kowalski. He's got a point. More than one. "But you could have lied to Ben - you didn't have to tell him now."

"And then what, Ray? I've never lied to him - if he'd asked me before, I'd have told him, but he didn't. It's no more lying than him not telling me that you and he are living together. I presume you **_are_** sharing a bed?"

Now I'm speechless. He gives me a half smile. "I've been a cop for forty years, Ray and in my book, with you wearing Ben's underwear, and the way Ben's been calling your name, I'd say you were more than friends, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, we are," I mumble. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm worried sick about him, and I just want to get him home."

"That's good. Then we both feel the same way about him, and the situation. Right now, getting him well and out of here is the only thing we should be worried about."

"What about Muldoon?"

His face hardens. "I'll deal with him **_after_** my son is home safe. I'm not losing any more family on account of him."

I guess the old bastard isn't so evil after all. I put my hand out. "Friends?"

He grins. "Friends, Ray. After all, you are my son-in-law, more or less." He gets up, still leaving me gaping. Geez, I've heard of open-minded, but fuck ... Shaking my head, I go to follow him into the tent, but stop when I hear them talking.

"You should have told me, Dad," Ben's saying quietly.

"I know, son. I'm sorry. I did what I thought was best for you."

"Dad ... Muldoon didn't **_fall_** into Six Mile Canyon, did he?"

Silence. Then, "No. I killed him. Thought I had anyway. You going to arrest me?"

"For what? There's no evidence, no witness - no body. No crime. And I doubt my testimony of your confession would hold up in court, since I'm off my head," and I can imagine Ben's crooked smile as he says this, "and I doubt Ray will give evidence against you either. He may kick you in the head at some point though - won't you, Ray?"

I'm not eavesdropping, not deliberately - sheesh, the whole cave's not much bigger than a large tent. I stick my head in through the flap. "You called, sir?"

"Oh thank you, Stanley Raymond - I'd be grateful if you would assist me in emptying my bladder."

"Right you are," I say imitating his accent. I open the flap down to the floor, then we put our hands under his shoulders and haul him out. We're as careful as we can be, but he still grunts with pain. "Sorry, Ben," I say as he lies on the ground, getting his breath back.

He shakes his head. "Can you help me stand?" It take the two of us - my man is a solid piece of work, needs to be up here in the cold and with the job he does, but just at the moment, I wish he hadn't got such a big appetite.

"You're going on a diet the second I get you home, Benton Fraser."

"I believe ... I am .. already ... on one.. Ray," he gets out, breathing hard. Bob lets me take him over to our makeshift urinal and help Ben with his bits.

"Ben, you know he knows?" I whisper as he takes care of business.

"I heard you talking, Ray. There's not much privacy in here."

"He didn't freak out! You said he would ..."

He signals he's done, and we repack and rezip everything. "No, what I said was that he should hear it from me face to face. It's only courteous."

Politeness - like some fucking religion up here. I see he's trying to take some weight on his leg. "Hey, quit that, Ben, you don't want to end up in a wheelchair."

"He's right, son. Don't forget what happened to Buck."

"Buck?" I ask.

"Buck Frobisher - good heavens, Benton, don't tell me you haven't told the boy ..."

"You can stop calling me 'boy' anytime now, old-timer," I snarl.

"Well, **_Ray,_** Buck was my partner. Got stabbed in the thigh right here," he indicates. "He's got a terrible limp."

"I can beat that - I got shot just where Ben did, so I know all about that shit, thank you. And if I catch you trying to walk on it before the docs clear you, Ben, I **_will_** kick your ass."

"Understood, Ray ... uh, could you let me lie down now?"

We get him resettled and flat and Dief comes back and lies down next to me. "Decided to rejoin us, have you, Diefenbaker?" Ben says snarkily, and it's like music to my ears. Will never complain about his bitching ever again. "Ingrate," he mutters at his wolf, who just grins at him. Dief's no fool either. He knows Ben's just glad to still be around to insult him.

I realize I have absolutely no idea what time it is - or even what day it is. My stomach's growling, but I don't want Ben to cool down again. Bob reads my thoughts. "Go and eat, stretch. I'll keep him warm." Good as his word, he climbs in behind his son, and I wonder how long it's been since he's done that - probably not since Ben was a baby. I grin at the thought, and hope they don't kill each other.

I relieve myself, and heat up some tinned stew for us. It's about three in the afternoon, and will be dark anytime - not that it makes any difference to us in here. Wonder how long this fucking storm is going to last - the noise is beginning to get on my nerves. Do some stretching exercises, and a little shadow boxing, a little dancing. I ache all over - the mats only protect our butts from the ground, but there's no padding, and I sure am not carrying any on me. Remembering what Ben said, I make sure I eat as much as I can force down - at least our supplies are healthy. We had food for three for just over a week. But we gotta get Ben to a hospital before then - that leg of his is worrying me. Bob's ahead of me on that, asking me to bring the first aid kit and the lantern, so he can change the dressing.

"How does it look?" I ask, worried.

"Not as bad as it could. Take this and bury it, will you?"

The dressing has fresh blood on it - damn it, I knew he shouldn't have got up. But he's as stubborn as hell, my lover, and I really think he'd rather gnaw his arm off at the elbow than pee into a jar in front of me and his dad. Still, I keep a tin can aside - I'll just make him if I have to.

We settle into a routine. I stay with Ben for four or five hours, dozing or talking to Bob, then we switch places for an hour or so to let me stretch, eat, and pee. Ben's awake a lot more than he was, but still asleep most of the time. He's coherent pretty much too, only slightly out of it when he wakes up. He's still having horrible nightmares, but unless he starts to thrash, I just hold him and rub him until he quiets down. Sometimes I find Bob looking at me sadly. I'm starting to feel sorry for him - it can't be easy watching this, knowing he's responsible. I want to know more about Muldoon, but I don't want to bring the whole subject up again, not in front of Ben. But it's Ben himself who raises it on the second afternoon, as we're discussing the weather and how it looks like the storm is finally clearing. With any luck at all, Bob will be able to radio for help sometime in the next twelve to eighteen hours, and we can get out of this hell hole.

"You know Muldoon will come for the diamonds, don't you, Dad."

Bob nods. "That's his style - he doubles back on himself. Do you think he saw you?"

"No. I'm sure of that. But if we assume he assisted Jackson over the edge, he'll know he didn't have the diamonds on him. He'll back track. The storm will cover your tracks and mine, but he might be waiting for us to break cover."

Damn. I forgot to ask Stu for his rifle, which come to mention it, was really dumb of both of us.  Too busy getting the dogs and everything together.  Knew we'd forgotten something important. "Ben, we're sitting ducks. You don't have a gun, I don't have a gun - what the fuck do we do if this asshole comes up on us?"

"Remind me to talk to you about your language some time, Ray. I suppose we'll just have to rely on our wits."

Our wits. Right. He's still an apple short of a picnic, his dad is, well, he's old, and I know nothing about fighting people in the snow. "Fraser, I don't suppose you got some other plan, have you?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Ray," his father interrrupts. "What are you pestering him for? Can't you see he's ill? We'll manage, don't worry."

We discuss different options, but really the only thing we can do is hope we miss him as we go out onto the snow field. Not much of a plan, but I make my own arrangements. Didn't get to be thirty-six and a cop for all this time by relying on other people for my good health.

The rest of the time while we're waiting, when we're not all asleep, Ben and his father tell me about the Mounties. I'm pretty damn sure more than half of it is made up, and that one about theGreat Yukon Double Douglas Fir Telescoping Bank shot Bob made to win Ben's mom - huh, sounds a likely story to me. But most of the time Ben talks to Bob about Bob's second wife, Maggie's mom - the cancer hasn't come back, but she's been sick a lot. Bob's going to retire soon, and they'll move to Inuvik to be near Maggie. All this talk about families leaves me out. I mean, Ben's still got his dad, and a step-mom. I've got nothing.

I really don't expect Ben to notice, with him being sick and with what he's dealing with, but after Bob dozes off, Ben rolls in the sleeping bag to face me. "I'm sorry Ray - we've been ignoring you."

"It's okay - I know you haven't seen each other for a while."

"That's not the point. You're my family as much as him or Maggie or Mother. I should be more thoughtful."

"I think you should be thinking of how you're gonna get better and make all this up to me, Ben Fraser."

He smiles against my face, and kisses me. Actually we spend a bit of time kissing, which strikes me as being slightly kinky with his dad being right there, but we're buried under the bags, and quiet as mice. Anyway. Fuck him. I miss Ben.

 

* * *

Finally by the second morning, the storm has cleared as if it had never been, although there's hell of a lot of snow that wasn't there when I last stuck my head outside. Bob makes contact with the Norman Wells detachment and gives them the good news. We have to get down below the tree line before they can land a helicopter - we figure it'll take us four hours, so we prearrange a two o'clock rendezvous. I'm still worried about Ben - he's okay while he's kept warm, and flat, but the slightest exertion and he's set back badly. That leg of his is not looking great - Bob thinks there's the start of infection, which is only to be expected, and he's still not recovered from the hypothermia. Ben sits quietly while we throw gear outside and Bob gets the dogs ready. It still amazes me that they can have got through that storm just by burying themselves under the snow, but the proof is bounding all around us. I swear Dief looks sheepish, and I can hear Ben in my mind saying 'A disgrace to your breed.' But the little guy did his bit for us in the cave, so I'm happy with him.

Last and worst problem - hauling Ben out of the cave. I mean, Bob and me can scramble all right, but Ben can't even stand, let alone climb. Bob and me think hard, and decide the best way is make a harness out of ropes, under Ben's groin and around his chest. Bob will go up top to haul and I'll push from below. It works pretty well too, but Ben's in a lot of pain from the ropes and the exertion and his leg. I kneel next to him in the snow. "I'm sorry, Ben. We'll get you home soon."

He looks at me and manages a tight smile. "Just think of me like a sack of potatoes, Ray. Now get me onto the sled." He can see I'm still worried, and he takes my hand. "You're doing fine, Ray. I'm proud of you."

That gives me a glow like you wouldn't believe. Ben never says what he doesn't mean, and I treasure praise from him - especially about this, the wilderness. Even though I agreed to go with him on our quest, I've never really stopped worrying that I'll get him killed through some stupid mistake. But the trust and love in his eyes makes me feel like Superman, like I can really do this. I wish I could kiss him, but even though his Dad's cool, I don't want to rub his nose in it. I settle for squeezing Ben's hand back, and patting his face.

It's slow going. We can only travel at walking pace - my walking pace, and with the snow and the damn snow shoes, that's not very fast. But Bob has stopped making sarcastic comments, and maybe I'm not doing too badly after all. We've got Ben wrapped up like a mummy, and Dief has agreed to sit on him to help keep him warm, but I still keep checking on him, which probably bugs the hell out of him but he doesn't complain.

I keep an eye out for anyone following us, but it's impossible with the trees and trying to keep upright on the snowshoes and on the slope. Muldoon finds us just as we reach the tree line - somehow I knew he would be waiting for us. He's got a rifle pointed at us before we spot him, and we have no chance of escaping. God, he's big - and the meanest looking guy I can recall seeing even in Chicago.

"You can stop right there, boys."

"What do you want? We gotta get this guy to the hospital," I say, pretending I don't know who he is. Ben and his Dad are playing possum for now, letting me handle it. Does he recognize Bob, I wonder? Thank God neither of them are wearing that Mountie uniform, and both are muffled up in scarves and fur hats.

"You've got something of mine. I want it."

"I don't think they belong to you," Ben says all of a sudden.

Muldoon swings his rifle at him. "You - you got them. Hand them over." He walks closer, and I can tell this guy will shoot Ben - and all of us without a minute's hesitation.

"No!" I yell. He turns and glares at me. "Ben, I'm sorry - I took them off you while you were asleep." Ben lifts an eyebrow at me - he's not sure what I'm playing at. "I knew you'd hand them in - they're worth a fortune, we could live on them for the rest of our lives." He frowns, knowing damn well now that I'm lying - like I'd do something like that. "I hid them - so we could come back later." I turn to Muldoon. "I'll take you there."

"Good - then I don't need you fellas, do I?" he says, aiming his rifle at them.

"No!" I scream as it looks as though he's going to kill Ben and his father right there and then. "You kill them and I'll die before I'll show you. Let them go. By the time anyone comes after you, you can be long gone. But you lay a finger on either of them, and I swear, those rocks are gonna be a treat for some archaeologist in about a hundred years' time."

"Ray, no...." Ben's voice is anguished.

"Shut up, Ben. You're in no shape to argue. Go - get out of here. You're just slowing me up anyway." I glare at him, hoping he can tell it's all bravado. His eyes are sad. _Don't, please, Ben,_ I beg him silently - _this is hard enough._ "You'll let them go, right?" I say to Muldoon.

After a second, he laughs. "Sure. They're nothing to me - probably bear bait anyway. But you - you trick me, and I kill you and come after these two and kill them. You get that?"

"Understood. Just ... a second." I go to Ben and kneel by the sled. "Ben, this is the only way," I say quietly.

"He'll kill you, Ray."

"He'll kill us all if I don't go - and hey, I'm hard to get rid of. Just send your friends back," I whisper, and he understands. The chopper is expected in twenty minutes. I just gotta last that long.

Ben grabs my shirt. "I can't let you do this."

"You got no choice. Besides, I'll be back before you know it."

"Ray..." he says in a voice which breaks my heart.

"No, " I say, taking his hand off me. "You listen good, Ben. You live - no matter what - you fucking live. For me. **_No matter what happens._** I love you." I kiss him hard for two reasons. One, I might never see him again, and ...

"You fucking queers. Get over here," Muldoon snarls, pulling my collar and knocking me flat. That's the second reason. Never miss a chance to let your opponent underestimate you. I learned that doing undercover. I try and look suitably cowardly, putting my hand up as if I think he's going to hit me.

"Get up," he says in disgust. "You two, go. And don't think I won't catch you up if this little flower here screws me."

"Hey, big boy, don't knock it till you try it," I say, which makes him mad. He hauls me up off the ground and Bob takes his chance and gets the dogs going. Muldoon trains his gun on them. "I mean it - you shoot, and you got as much chance of finding them rocks as you have of flying to the moon."

He gives me an evil smile. "Just trying to frighten you, you faggot. Doesn't take much. Give me your hands." He ties them together which I suppose he thinks bothers me. Actually I couldn't be happier. I won't be able to walk very fast being unbalanced, and the longer we take, the more chance that Ben's Mountie friends will find us before the bastard puts the bullet through my brain that he's planning.

We make better time than we did coming down the mountain, but I still don't walk fast - I'm not faking it, the snowshoes only help so far in the soft snow, and I'm already tired from this morning. He knocks me around a few times, trying to get me to move faster. "Look, mister, I'm going as fast as I can," I whine after he's shoved me down for the third time. He kicks my leg which hurts like hell, but I don't show it - I'm not going to give him **_that_** satisfaction.

"You lame ass fucker - if you don't start moving faster than this, I'll kill you and take my chances on finding the stones." I realize he's close enough that he might think he can do it. I try, and in another hour we're back at the cave.

"Down there?" He points with the file. "You go get them."

"Untie my hands, I can't climb down." He looks as if he might push me down the hole anyway, but then thinks better of it and cuts the rope. Guess he thinks he won't be needing it again. I climb down and make a show of looking for the pouch, which is actually tucked in my shirt and has been the whole time. But I do want to look for the other things I've hidden down here. I almost smile at the idea of telling Ben that I'm using what I am - hope I get the chance.

"Hurry up. Throw them up to me."

"You'll shoot me," I complain.

"I'll shoot you if you don't."

I climb half up the shaft and get in position. "Here comes," and throw the can right at the fucker's forehead. Bam! He goes over, and I scramble up. Damn it, he's already up and aiming at me. I throw another can which knocks him off balance, use the third and belt him on the head, and then I'm all over him. But man, he's strong, and mean, and most important - not tired. At least I got the gun away - it's lying in the snow yards from us. But then he punches me hard in the chest and when I try to move it hurts sharp. I look down and find a knife sticking in me. He gives me an evil grin as I fall back. He takes his time getting his gun and comes and stands over me.

"You little shit." He aims his rifle, nice and slow.

"You know... who you passed up... buddy?" I cough out. Delay, Kowalski. Delay.

"What the hell are you talking about, asshole?" Nice line in insults. If I had more breath I might be asking him if his manhood is feeling threatened.

"Fraser ... Bob... Fraser. You ... let him go," I grin at him - or where I think he is. My sight's going gray. So damn tired. So hard to breathe.

Well, that surprises him. "Bob Fraser! You're lying." I haven't got enough air to answer him. "It doesn't help you, you little shit. Say good night."

Out of time, Ray. I close my eyes, and think of Ben. Hear the crack, no pain, but then a heavy weight on me, which makes it even harder to breathe. I open my eyes but I can't see any thing - just red and shadows.

"Ray?" The weight comes off me. "Ray, it's Stu. You're okay now. You're safe."

"Stu?" I breathe. The cavalry's got a name. Too late. I feel his hand clamp over the knife which hurts like you would not believe. "Stu... Ben..."

"He's fine - Medivac'ed out with his father. I was on the helicopter - Sergeant Fraser told me to follow you. I'm sorry I was late."

No problem, Stu buddy. Like the good little Mountie he is, he's brought a medical kit and does some nifty emergency bandaging to cut the blood loss, then radios the detachment. They've already sent the helicopter back from Inuvik to pick me up, and are on their way up the mountain. He leaves the knife in me - it's the safest thing apparently.

"Muldoon?" I manage to ask.

"He's dead, Ray."

"Good."

The medical team are an hour coming, and even with Stu's care, I know I'm getting shocky. Please, I pray. Not now - so close. I was ready to die before, to save Ben and his Dad, but now they're safe and Muldoon is dead, I want to live. Stu wants me to stay awake but I'm drifting in and out by the time the medical team arrives. I can feel myself being hooked up to a drip, and more bandaging being applied, before they load me on a stretcher and carry me down.

Don't remember the end of the trip, or being choppered out. Next thing I know is waking up in the hospital in Inuvik and Bob Fraser's wrinkly face is looking at me.

"Good, you're awake."

He sounds relieved, but there's only thing I want to know. "Ben?" God, my chest hurts. I got something stuck up my nose and drips and electrical wires all over the place.

"He's okay, son. Getting warmed up and they cleaned out the leg wound. He'll be better for knowing you're safe. He was getting mighty worked up there."

"Need to see him."

"You will. They're going to move you into his room tomorrow as soon as you're up to it."

I close my eyes. So tired, and so relieved. We all made it.

"They tell me Muldoon is dead."

I open my eyes. "Stu shot him."

"Thank God," he says quietly, and I agree with him. If the bastard had lived, he'd have tried to kill Bob or Ben or drag them down some way. He's no loss.

"Diamonds?"

" I've got all your clothes and the pouch. I should warn you Ben's pretty annoyed with you about that."

'He'll be pissed - just like Muldoon,' I think. I giggle, knowing that the pain meds are making me goofy, but the joke is too good not to laugh at. Bob obviously thinks I've lost what's left of my tiny mind. "Tell...tell you later," I manage to say. God, laughing hurts. He tells me my lung collapsed because of the knife, but all in all, I'm damn lucky. An inch higher and I'd have bled to death before the medical team got to us.

I sleep for another 12 hours or so. Bob's back when I wake up, feeling a bit perkier and breathing easier. Still hurts, but that's OK - just glad to be alive to ache.

The doctor comes in and checks me over, gives me the all clear, and instructions to the orderlies to move my bed into Ben's room. He's asleep as we come in, all packed around with thermal blankets, and on a drip. The commotion wakes him up. That smile - to the day I die, I'll remember the smile he gives me when he sees me.

"Ray."

"Made it, Ben - told you I would."

"Only barely, from what I heard. If you ever..."

"If **_you_** ever, buddy. I figure we're even in the taking dumb risks department. How are you feeling?"

"Just fine - now. You?"

"The same." We sit there with these stupid grins on our faces until his Dad coughs and reminds us that there are other people in the room.

"Yes, Dad?" Ben asks without looking away from me.

"I'll leave you two to it. I've got some phone calls to make." Ben doesn't even watch him go, which is rude for him, but I know how he feels. I ask the orderlies to move the beds as close as they can so we can hold hands. Not in front of everyone, but when we're alone. I still gotta be checked over again, and Ben's temperature is monitored and drips are fiddled about with, then we're left in peace.

"You killed Muldoon," Ben says.

"No, Stu did. He saved my life."

"I still don't know what you thought you were going to use against an armed man."

I start to laugh again. "I used **_you,_** buddy. You remember those cans you made such a stink about using? You know how hard a can of frozen piss hits?"

He looks at me as if I'm mad, then he works it out. "You threw frozen urine at Muldoon?"

"Call it symbolic or something, Ben."

"You planned this?" Oh, now I see what he's surprised at.

"Sure - you said use your wits, so I did. I knew he was gonna come after us, and knew I had to make sure he left you two alone. Which he did."

"He nearly killed you!" Ben shouts, then drops his voice. "You deliberately put yourself in danger. You damn fool!"

He's making me angry here. "And you're welcome too, Fraser. Look, it's not different from you doing your job - I was a cop, I did that all the time."

"But you're not a cop any more, Ray, and I never wanted you to die to save me."

"Two of you, Ben - and anyway, I know you'd do the same for me, don't try and kid me you wouldn't. My turn came first, that's all."

"I could have lost you - do you know what my life would have been like then?" he whispers.

"Do you know now why I had to come after you in the first place? I love you, Ben Fraser, and you love me. We both know what that means."

"Just don't ... don't do that again," he pleads. "I couldn't stand it."

"Not planning on it real soon. You need your sleep, so do I. Talk later - I'll be here."

He turns over so he can watch me, and slowly a smile grows. He's thinking the same as me. Sappy fools that we are.

 

* * *

Waking up means pain, and being poked, and prodded, and visitors. Maggie and her mom descend on Ben, and I get my share of hugs and kisses and 'thank you's for saving the golden boy. Maggie's nice enough to be grateful that I'm alive for my own sake - can't blame them for being most worried about Ben. Bob waits until his women folk leave before he turns up, and I swear, he's actually glad to see me. Oh, and Ben. Ben's doing good, but we'll both be in hospital for a week at least. I can't manage without him, nor him me, unless we bunk with Maggie, and things are already at bursting point in the Mackenzie household.

"How are you doing, Ray?" he asks, sitting between us. Ben's watching us with a little smile on his face, pretending he's too tired to talk.

"Fine, Bob. Just glad to be alive."

"Humph. With all the damn fool things you did, I'm amazed you are. Hope Benton here teaches you better before you two go off on this adventure you keep jabbering about."

"Look here, old-timer...." Then I see his face - and Ben's. "Comedians, the pair of ya."

"I think Dad was trying in his own unique way to thank you, Ray," Ben says with a cute smirk on his face, which I really would love to kiss the hell out of.

"Thank him? A Yank? Good grief, Benton - next minute you'll be saying I like the boy."

I sigh. This is going to be a looong conversation. They could keep this shtick up all day.

Bob gets me to tell him how I nearly got the upper hand on Muldoon, and approves of the weapons. He tells us that the RCMP are searching the area where Muldoon died - they think he must have had a cache of something, and that the diamonds are either part of that, or payment for it. The weather makes it hard, and there are probably clues on the body in the Canyon that was not Ben. Ben falls asleep again while we're discussing it - he does that now. No warning, he'll be chatting one minute and then you look and he's off, with his mouth open like a kid. Bob sees him and makes an unnecessary rearrangement of the bedding. How come he finds it so hard to show he cares when Ben's awake? That grandmother of Ben's - she's got a lot to answer for.

Bob lowers his voice. I thought he'd leave once Ben fell asleep, but he seems happy to talk to me. Something's been bothering me.

"Bob - do you know why Muldoon killed Ben's mom?"

He goes quiet, and I guess I've gone too far. He looks at Ben, to see if he's still asleep, I suppose, and then speaks very softly. "I'm not sure. It's not something I ever want Ben to know, you understand? It's bad enough ... well, you know."

Yeah. I do. "He won't hear it from me."

"Muldoon always had this ... attraction to Caroline. Always flirting with her, teasing her, saying she married the wrong man. She never cared for him a bit, and we had one or two fights about it, with her wanting me to drop the friendship. You know, son - you were married. If one doesn't like the other's friends, it can be hell. "

I nod understandingly - Stella and me had a few arguments along those lines too.

"But when I caught up with Muldoon, he laughed at me. Said I didn't know about him and Caroline. Made out they'd had an affair - well, I knew that was bunk. But he said he'd killed her because he didn't want me to have her any more. That's when I threw him over the edge of Six Mile Canyon."

"He was obsessed?"

"Yes. And she must have known. If only I'd listened to her, she might be alive today. Ray - I know you disapprove of the way I dealt with everything - Ben, I mean - but you can't judge me half as harshly as I do myself."

I reach out and take the old man's hand - because that's what he suddenly looks like. An old, sad, tired man. "You don't know about what he might have done - for all you know he might have come after you and your wife anyway. My wife - my ex, she was a lawyer, dealt with domestic abuse cases. She had some real fruitcakes - one guy even tried to blow her up because he thought she was coming between him and his ex. I don't think there was a hell of a lot you could have done to stop Muldoon - he was just a mean bastard."

"Do you really believe that?"

"About Muldoon? Or about you? Yeah. I do. And I think you got a sick wife and an injured son and an ex-Chicago flatfoot almost son-in-law, and you got enough to think about without hitting yourself over the head for the past."

"He's right, Dad."

Bob's head whips around. "Benton - how much of that did you hear?" He's gone white as a sheet.

"Enough, Dad. And Ray's right. It's not your fault. You couldn't have stopped him. And you thought you were doing the right thing by me." Ben smiles. "Time to let the dead bury the dead - isn't that what Grandma used to say? Mum can't be hurt anymore, and Muldoon is gone. Really gone."

"I'm sorry, Benton."

The two men look at each other. Thirty years of not talking but now they're on the same page. Ben puts his hand out, and his father takes it. Ben grips it and Bob wraps his other hand around their joined fists. That's about as mushy as Bob gets, I think. "Dad, go on home to Mother. Ray and I are tired, and so are you. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Soft. That's what we are. Getting soft."

"Yes, Dad. See you tomorrow."

We both watch him leave. Ben rolls back to me.

"Are you okay?" I ask him. "He really didn't want you to hear that."

"I know. And yes, I'm okay."

"Really?"

"Yes, Ray. I don't lie, remember."

"Ben, it was your mom...."

He sighs. "Yes, Ray, I know. And if I think about it hard enough I guess I might be mad at him. But really, what do you want me to do? The crime is thirty years old. It was a different time, we didn't understand about obsession the way we do now, and Dad did the best he knew how. He's not perfect, I know that. Neither am I. I'm not sure knowing Mom was murdered - or why - would have really helped. Perhaps remembering sooner might have done, or maybe not. The nightmares I'm having now - do you think a six year old would have handled those?"

He looks at me steadily, and I have to admit he's got a point. "You still having them?"

"Not since we were rescued, but I don't think I'm done with them. At least I know enough now to deal with them and expect them."

"And you got me, you know that. I'll help."

He gives me a brilliant smile, the one that shows his crooked teeth and makes his eyes go real blue. "Yes, I've got you. I'm very lucky."

 

* * *

  
We're both kept in the hospital for a week and a half - since I gotta look after him and him me, we have to be sprung at the same time. Sharing a room is nice, but I really want to go home. The day before we've been told we can fly back, Maggie comes to visit us again. This time it's sort of official - she's got news.

"We found what Muldoon was guarding - an arms cache big enough to equip an East European country."

I whistle. "Wow - no wonder he was ready to kill."

She nods. "It's a very good solve, Ray. And there's something else. It'll take a while since we have to make our investigations, but it could be that you're going to be rich. Those diamonds you found are worth a lot of money, and they look like they apparently belong to no one except the finder. Which is you. Of course, we still have to trace their origin, so it's not certain."

"How much?" I ask, thinking a few thousand. The value she tells me knocks me out.

"You kidding me! Half a million bucks?" I shout.

"Canadian of course. But yes."

"Half a million dollars? We're gonna get half a million dollars?"

"Well, after taxes of course. Unless the owner of the diamonds comes forward and proves they were stolen, but we think that's unlikely. It's treasure trove. And since you, technically, are the possessor of it, they belong to you. Or, I should say, they might do. Nothing's fixed yet but I thought you'd like to know."

Her hemming and hawing doesn't reduce the impact. "Half a million dollars!"

"Ray - I really would like to get some more sleep," Ben complains. How can he sleep?

"Ben - we're rich!"

"Yes, Ray. In theory. But right now I'm tired," then he rolls over grumpily and shuts us out.

Maggie grins at me and keeps her voice down. "Don't worry, Ray. He'll have a list of good causes as long as your arm that can do with a donation when he's well."

"But this'll mean he can give up work."

She frowns. "Ray - don't ever even think of suggesting that to Ben. Being a Mountie isn't his job - it's who he is. Dad's the same. If and when the money comes through, you can use it to, I don't know, maybe build a hideaway somewhere to retire to, or where you and Ben can go on vacation. But he needs his job."

"Yeah, you're right. I wasn't thinking, as usual."

She kisses my cheek. "You were thinking about Ben. It's sweet." She looks at her watch. "Look, I better go. I'll pick you both up tomorrow to take you to the airport. Are you sure you don't want to spend a few days with us?"

"Maggie, you know I love you and Casey and the kids like my own, but with this," I point to my injured chest, "and Ben's leg, I don't think we're up to it. But soon, ok?"

"OK. See you tomorrow."

She leaves and I think about what she's told me. Half a million bucks - even if it is Canadian. Then I think about what I would have done with the money if Mom and Dad were still alive - I could've sent them on a cruise, or bought a new house for them. The way things stand, I hardly need the money myself. Maggie could do with some, and I bet Bob hasn't saved that much. My brother, trust funds for my nieces and nephews and Ben's ... yeah, a lot better than making Ben mad at me, I think.

Ben's got the right idea. I'm tired, and go back to sleep.

 

* * *

I thought I was ready to get out, but after the plane ride from Inuvik to Norman Wells, I'm not so sure. Ben's leg is giving him hell, but it's me who hurts to breathe. Stu's waiting with Dief for us at the airport.  The wolf's pretty damn happy to see us and nearly knocks Ben over until Stu hauls him back. He puts Ben in the back seat long ways, and me in the front for the two minute drive to Ben's house, then  helps us both get indoors, checks we can manage (or that we say we can) and gets back to work after we thank him. I owe that guy my life, but he's so shy - do you think I can thank him for it? No way.

I sit down on one of the armchairs, brain still fuzzy and fizzing, not quite believing we're both back safe. Ben turns the heating on - it's a gray, snowy day and I know he's feeling cold anyway - and hobbles over to the sofa.  Dief jumps up next to him.  I've told Ben what I'll do to him if I see him without the crutches even once, and I think he believes me.

I look at him. "We made it."

"So I see. I also see that you let the standards slip while I was away."

I look around at the mess Bob and me left hauling stuff out to get on our way. "I was trying to save your life, you bastard!"

"Language, Ray. Ow," he complains as I throw a pillow at him. Mess - I'll give him mess.

"We've got a problem - supplies, food and stuff. One of us will have to ... what?"

"It's ok. Stu has arranged it with Charlie.  He should be here soon. Why don't you come over here?"

I lever myself up, wishing I'd stayed another couple of days in hospital being waited on hand and foot, and sit next to where he's sprawled on the sofa. "You want something, Fraser?"

"Hmmm mmm. You."

"You sure? You know I let the standards slip," I tease him, even as I'm bending carefully towards his mouth.

"It's not your housekeeping I'm interested in, Ray." He moves up to meet me, which is good because I really can't bend that far, and then for the first time in nearly a month, I'm kissing warm, healthy, horny Fraser lips, and his strong, completely whole arms are around me. Actually, it makes me a little wet-eyed. It was just too fucking close this time. I think he's thinking the same, because he's cuddling me more than he's kissing. He doesn't smell right - hospital soap, disinfectant, hospital sheets - I guess I'm no better.  All I really want to do is take him to bed even though it's only noon and we've both spent long enough resting over the last two weeks. I let him hold me - I would have been happy to stay like that all day if someone hadn't knocked on the door. Three seconds later Charlie barges in.

"Hello there, young fellas!" I go to get up but Ben keeps hold of me. Oookay, possessive Mountie. I stay where I am.

"Hi Charlie. See, I brought him back."

Charlie grins. "So you did - with a few more holes in him than when he left, but who's counting. And what about you, Ray? I hear you tangled with a bad hat yourself."

"Yeah, sure did. You stopping? We can tell you all about it."

"I think I just might, Ray. I brought some groceries over for you, and the medical supplies from the list you gave Stu, Ben. Here, let me make some tea for us all."

Ben's still hanging on to me like I might run out on him. He's not usually so touchy-feely around other people but I'm not gonna fight him over this in front of Charlie either. I get a little more comfortable and wait for the tea which actually sounds like a good idea - you cannot get decent coffee or tea in a hospital, even a Canadian hospital, to save your life.  Charlie uses a pot, not tea bags, and he's also made some sandwiches for us, reminding me that I'm hungry. "Charlie, I love you," I say with a grin around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

"Careful, there, Ray, I don't want to get into trouble with the local constabulary."

Ben smiles, doesn't move. Makes drinking his tea and eating awkward with one arm wrapped around me, but he won't let me shift, not an inch. He lets me tell Charlie about Muldoon and finding Ben. Charlie's impressed. "Well, I have to say that's one to tell the grandkiddies. You were pretty lucky, Ray."

Ben corrects him, the first thing he's added to the conversation. "Not lucky, Charlie. Brave and resourceful and reckless."

Charlie stands up. "A good man to have on your team, then, Ben."

"Yes, I think so," Ben says calmly. This is embarrassing. "Charlie, can I ask a favor? Neither Ray or myself will be able to care for Dief, to take him for runs for a few days - would you take him to Stuart for me?"

Dief and me both look at Ben. "Just for a few days." Dief whines but I can see the sense of it - it just surprises me that Ben wants to shunt him off. Charlie agrees and the wolf trots out after him. He likes Charlie, loves Stu, and provided someone's slipping him cookies every so often, he'll be ok.

"So, what was that all about, Benton Fraser? You're holding onto me like a kid with his last quarter, and now Dief."

"I want to be alone with you, Ray. We haven't been on our own for weeks. And Dief does need more attention than you or I can give him at the moment."

"What about this?" I say, plucking at the arm still firmly holding me in place.

"You know what this is."

HIs face is very close to mine. "Tell me anyway."

"I love you, Ray. I could have lost you to Muldoon. I need to be close to you. Satisfy you?"

"No."

"What will?"

"Come to bed with me ... no,  not for sex, you crazy Mountie ... I just want to be in our own bed, be warm and without your Dad listening to every move we make." I nuzzle his hair. "I want a shower but I'm too fucked to manage it."

"Not quite," Ben says and laughs at my face. "But I agree. Later.  Hand me my crutches, would you?"

I know Ben isn't back to normal by the fact he's ready to go to bed in the middle of the day.  But hell, sitting up hurts me, neither of us have any more energy than a day old kitten, so why not?  We both look at the mess - clothes all over the bed, packets and junk on the floor in the living room. Ben makes some attempt to pick things up - me, I just ball up the clothes and throw them into an empty hamper, and even that's too much trouble.  Um. We should have thought about this more before we pestered the doctors to let us home. I can walk, can't bend, Ben can bend but can't walk.  Looks like we might have to call Charlie if we need anything from the outside world for a few days.  Everything is slow - getting undressed, getting settled. Getting up again, finding the pills we're supposed to each take - antibiotics, painkillers, vitamins. Getting settled again. We have to find cushions to support his leg and I have to change sides. Never knew such simple stuff could be so tiring - not for two grown men who were dog sledding not so long ago.

The sheets are old, cold and a little musty from the house being shut for two weeks. I meant to change them before he got back, but I was delaying because they smelled of him. But all that matter now is that they don't smell of the detergent in the hospital linen, and the mattress is a lot kinder to my bony body than the ground or the hospital bed. Finally flat and comfortable, I let out a sigh, knowing I'm home. So strange. I haven't lived here six months, and already this place is more familiar than the apartment I lived in for ten years in Chicago. The difference is Ben.

He tucks his arm under my head and rolls toward me and starts nibbling my ear in the way that makes me crazy and he knows it. "Ben, if you're starting something, you'll have to finish it all by yourself."

"I just want to touch you, Ray. May I?"

I shrug. If I'm his plush toy for the moment, that's fine.  Couldn't get hard if I tried - it all hurts too much. But that doesn't mean I don't like what he's doing to my ear, or my neck - my eyebrow? His hands are rubbing carefully over the not broken bit of my chest. It just feels so good that he's warm,  not cold, not close to death. It feels so good that I can touch his hair and his face and his broad chest and not think that every moment this might be my last chance to do so. I shiver a bit.

"Cold, Ray?" He holds me a little tighter.

"No. Just remembering how it felt when Stu said you were missing."

He doesn't say anything for a while. What can he say? It wasn't his fault. He could get killed crossing the street right here in Norman Wells, the way some people drive.  But I know I'll never believe he's gone until I'm holding his cold broken body in my arms, and someone tells me there's not the slightest trace of brain or heart activity. And even then .... And he feels the same, I know it. We got that much in common. Both stubborn bastards.

"Are you tired, Ray? You should sleep," he says quietly.

"Can't. Talk to me."

"Are you saying I make you sleepy?" I grin against his neck. It's a long running joke. I pretend he's boring and he pretends he doesn't know how much I like to listen to him. He gets comfortable, and arranges me better. Despite what I said, the warmth of his body and the travel and being sore are making me dozy.

He starts to talk again. " In 1845 Sir John Franklin set off in search of the North West passage with two boats, the _Erebus_ and the _Terror._ He was last seen navigating Peel Sound. Many went in search of his hand reaching for the Beaufort Sea but none found him...."

And so to the sound of Ben's beautiful voice, and the familiar story, I fall asleep, and dream of finding the reaching out Hand of Franklin, with Ben and Dief at my side, looking out over the Beaufort Sea, icebergs floating in freezing water, surrounded by the deadly snow white cold of his home - and mine now. It's a happy dream.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


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